The Execution of All Things
by awesomesausome
Summary: "It washed over him, a sudden premonition, of what he wasn't sure, but it was strong enough that it almost made him grab Mac out of the shower and tell her that they were playing hooky, and curl back up with her under the covers and stay hidden all day. " A simple errand turns into something so much more.
1. Soldiers come quickly

I…don't know where this came from. I have too many unfinished (but they will be finished! Promise!) fics to really start another multi-chapter, and I'm still in post-engagement bliss, but then this idea was bouncing around my brain and I couldn't help it. I couldn't. So. Let me know what you think, because as usual, I'm horribly unsure about it. Oh! And the title is from the Rilo Kiley song. Yes.

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters.

* * *

Will had an uneasy feeling that morning. He couldn't pinpoint exactly what was wrong, but _something_ felt off.

Things had been pretty calm lately, all things considered. Dantana had dropped the lawsuit, and everyone had kept their jobs. They were working like maniacs to figure out a way to get their numbers back up, and so far it was working. Little by little, their trust numbers were creeping back up, and no one was more relieved than Will.

Mackenzie had come home with him on Election Night, and every night since. They had stolen down to city hall on their lunch hour on a Tuesday and eloped, announcing their marriage much the same way that Will had announced their engagement. They took Sloan and Jim with them to be their witnesses, and Jim had given Mackenzie away while Sloan insisted on performing all the duties of a maid of honor, including throwing an after-the-fact bachelorette party.

Will had been banished from their apartment that night, and he made Mackenzie promise no strippers, to which she replied, "Don't look at me, buster. I'm not the one planning this whole disaster. I don't even want to _go_."

"You have to go, Kenz!" Sloan shouted as she passed by Will's open office door.

"How do you _do_ that?" Mac asked.

"I've been toying with the idea that maybe Sloan is a witch," Will suggested.

"It's a good theory," Sloan replied. "But you have to go. It's _your _bachelorette party."

"But I'm not a bachelorette anymore," Mackenzie pointed out.

"Not the point," Sloan said.

"No strippers," Will instructed Sloan, waving a finger at her. "I mean it." Sloan held up both hands in surrender and grinned.

"Okay, okay, fine. But how do you feel about strip _clubs_?" And the combined force of both of them shouting her name was enough to get Sloan to back out of the office and promise no half or fully naked men of any kind.

To say that Will was enjoying married life would be an understatement. He loved everything about being married to Mac. He loved calling her his wife, and he loved when he caught her talking to someone else and referring to him as her husband.

Things were so good, that it was hard to remember a time when they weren't.

And there wasn't anything unusual about that morning. He had woken up with Mac curled around him, her head resting on his chest and his fingers tangled in her hair. She had mumbled incoherently when the alarm went off, burrowing deeper into the covers. It was one of the things that he had forgotten about; how hard it was to drag Mackenzie out of bed in the mornings.

"I'll go start the coffee," he told her, and he pressed a kiss to her forehead and slid out of bed, watching as Mac rolled over and a hugged a pillow to her chest. "Up, Mac. You have that meeting with HR this morning. We can't be late." And he waited until he saw movement from the bed, Mac moving like a zombie from the bed to the bathroom, before padding down the hall to the kitchen to start coffee.

It washed over him, a sudden premonition, of what he wasn't sure, but it was strong enough that it almost made him grab Mac out of the shower and tell her that they were playing hooky, and curl back up with her under the covers and stay hidden all day.

He shook it out of his head, and started the coffee. Mac appeared with her hair wrapped in a towel fifteen minutes later, and he slid a bowl of oatmeal and a mug of coffee in front of her, to which she accepted gratefully, rewarding him with a deep kiss.

"Mmm, good morning," he said, as she settled down with the paper across from him. It was so domestic, and so unbelievably wonderful that he had a hard time accepting sometimes that this was his life.

"Good morning," Mac replied, a shower and some caffeine having made her a lot more human and less like the living dead. They ate breakfast in companionable silence, trading pieces of the newspaper, and Will stealing bites of her oatmeal. They finished getting ready and met Lonny in the lobby of their building.

"Mr. and Mrs. McAvoy," Lonny greeted with a grin. Will shook his head, and hid his own grin. The big lug had actually grown on him, another thing that Will found unbelievable.

"Good morning, Lonny," Mac chirped, climbing into the SUV before Will. Once they were moving, she checked something on her phone and then asked, "Can we stop by the bank? We have time, right?" Will checked his watch and nodded.

"Sure," Lonny said.

"I'll be really quick, I just want to run in," Mac said. "I wanted to drop off the ring in my safety deposit box. I keep meaning to do it, and I keep forgetting." It had been tradition in the McHale family for a bride to wear a ring that had been passed down for generations on her wedding day. It had been sheer luck that it had been with Mackenzie in New York when they decided to elope; something that Will had taken as a good omen for their marriage, and though her parents were coming in a few weeks, and her mother was going to take the ring back with her to London, Mac was anxious to return the sacred ring to the safety deposit box where it had been sitting, safely, waiting for another McHale woman to marry.

Will hummed his agreement, as he replied to some emails and barely paid any attention when Lonny pulled up in front of the bank and Mac hopped out of the car, promising to be back in no time.

He hadn't really noticed how much time had passed until Lonny mentioned it.

"She's been in there a while," Lonny noted, and Will looked up then, glancing out the window at the bank.

"Must have been a line," Will replied. "Should we go in?" Before Lonny could reply, the blinds to the bank slammed close. "What the hell?"

"You stay here," Lonny said, jumping out of the car, and heading to the bank's front door. Will knew before Lonny tugged on the door handle that it was locked. That something was wrong.

He _knew_ he shouldn't have gotten out of bed that morning.


	2. I feel the earth beneath my feet

I don't know anything about how bank security works. I'm going to be honest with you right up front. But that's the beauty of _fiction_ right? I did however do a quick Google search on safety deposit boxes, and I would like my efforts to be noted. I still am not entirely sure how they work either. Don't hold that against me too much.

But look! A quick update! Woo!

* * *

Will jumps out of the car, despite Lonny's protests and jogs up beside him, trying the door handle himself.

"Will," Lonny's voice is calm, and Will can feel himself starting to panic, because the door is locked. The door is locked and Mac is inside. She's _inside_ and the door is locked. And there must be reason for that and the reason cannot be good.

"The door is locked," Will says stupidly.

"Let's go back into the car and call the police," Lonny suggests trying to guide Will back to the waiting car.

"Mac's inside," Will says, and he understands that he sounds like an idiot. He knows that on a rational level, but all rational thought has pretty much deserted him, because Mac, his _wife_, his _Mac_, is still inside. And the doors are locked. And the blinds are drawn, and fuck, fuck, fuck, _fuck_.

"Will," Lonny says again, and Will finally acquiesces, mostly because his hands are shaking and he doesn't know what to do. He doesn't know what to do.

"Should I call her?" Will asks, climbing into the car and rummaging around for his phone. "I should call her."

"That might not be the best idea, man," Lonny says gently, and Will can suddenly see it playing out in his head. Mac's phone ringing, attention being drawn to her, and he feels like an idiot. Lonny's pulling out his own phone, dialing 911 and Will rests his head back against the seat as he stares at the bank door.

Just open, he thinks. Just please open, and let Mac walk back out. Let Mac walk back out and climb into the car and explain how it was all a misunderstanding, that the doors were locked because of a drill, or a mistake, and let us laugh about it on our way to work.

Lonny hangs up, and moves towards the driver's seat.

"The silent alarm was tripped," Lonny reports, and Will's insides freeze. There's no mistake or misunderstanding. Lonny starts the car, and Will's hand is on the door handle immediately.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Will demands. "We can't leave! We aren't leaving. _I'm not leaving with her in there_. I don't care if it's not safe! We are not leaving."

"Will," Lonny turns to him, and his voice is firm. "I know you're freaking out right now. You have every right to be. We aren't leaving. But we need to move the car. The police are on their way. We'll come back. I promise. We aren't going to leave until Mac is with us. We just need to move the car." Will quiets down, and lets Lonny move the car from the space in front of the bank and to a side street.

"She has to be okay," Will says, his voice desperate.

"She will be," Lonny says turning off the car and turning to face Will. "We don't know what's going on in there. We don't know anything yet. Let's not panic, okay?"

"She has to be okay," Will repeats, his hands clenching at his sides. "She has to be."

* * *

It was supposed to be a quick trip. Just run in and drop off the ring in the safety deposit box. There weren't even too many people in line when Mac walked in. There were only three people ahead of her, but there were also only two tellers working, so Mac pulled out her phone to check for emails and see what the news wires had while she waited.

She was about to shoot off a text to Will telling him she was the next person in line when the men walked in, locking the door behind them and slamming the blinds down. She bit down the panic and silenced her phone and slid it into her bra.

This can't be good, she thought, as the men pulled out guns and demanded that everyone get on the floor. She didn't hesitate; she dropped down and laid flat on her stomach. She tried desperately not to panic. She had been in enough tough situations to know that panicking solved absolutely nothing.

"Phones and wallets over here," one of the men shouted, and Mac slid her purse over, still clutching her family ring in her fist and hoping they didn't discover her phone tucked away. It was a risk, but one she knew she had to take. If there was an opportunity to do so, she wanted to text Will and let him know that she was okay. She could only imagine what would go through his head when he realized what was happening in here.

She began to catalog the details; the analytical part of her brain going into overdrive. There were three men all wearing ski masks. She gave them nicknames in her head, as she rested her cheek on the cold floor. The tall, skinny one she named Lurch; the second, medium build, kept rocking his weight back and forth nervously, and she decided she would call him Sparky. The third was in charge, she could tell by his body language and the way that the other three looked to him before doing anything. All right, Mac thought, and we have the Captain rounding out the trio.

The Captain waved his gun and told everyone to move to the corner. Mac pulled herself up from the floor and followed the few others who had the misfortune of being in the bank to a far wall where Mac slid down and hugged her knees to her chest. She watched as Sparky gathered the wallets and purses and began to rummage through them, tossing the cell phones into a pile. Mac slid the ring that she been clutching in her hand onto her right hand and watched as Sparky picked up her purse and dumped out the contents onto the floor.

"There's no phone in here," he told the Captain. He picked up Mac's work badge and stared at it for a minute. "Which one of you is Mackenzie McHale?" He looked over to the group huddled against the wall and pointed to Mac. "Where's your phone?"

Mac's heart began pounding against her chest. Stay calm, she ordered herself.

"I left it in the car with my husband," she answered, willing her voice to stay even. "I was just running in and I didn't think I'd need it." Sparky cocked his head to the side, and Mac held her breath.

"Hurry it up!" Lurch yelled at the terrified teller trying to open the vault with shaking hands, and Sparky's attention dropped from Mackenzie and he continued his task of gathering wallets. Mac felt shaky from the adrenaline, and shoved her hands under her to keep from fidgeting.

She glanced over and saw that the teller had managed to open the vault, but something was wrong.

"I can't open the boxes," the teller was young, in her twenties if Mac had to hazard a guess, and her voice was shaking. "I have a key and the owners of a box have a key, and we can only open if both keys are present."

"There's only about 20 grand here," Lurch said from where he was shoving the money from the drawers in his bag. "You said there'd be more!"

"Grab it and let's go," the Captain said. Sparky finished grabbing the money out of the wallets and shoved them into another bag, and started towards the front door. Mac closed her eyes. It was almost over. She would be out of there soon.

She would insist that she and Will go back home. Go back home and forget today ever occurred.

Sparky's hand was on the front door when the screech of tires made Mac's eyes pop open.

"Shit," Sparky muttered. "It's the cops."

It had been _almost_ over, Mac thought desperately. It had been so close.


	3. I'm feeling badly

Thanks for the reviews! I like to think of this as my guilty pleasure writing fic. I'm enjoying writing it, even though I have no idea if what I'm writing could even maybe, possibly, be how this would work in real life. I'm deciding to not care about that. I hope you all approve.

* * *

When the police show up, Lonny and Will are waiting in the car. Will jumps out as soon as he sees the police cars, and Lonny is a few seconds behind as Will rushes towards the cops.

Will is already yelling at one of the cops when Lonny steps up beside him, and tries to put a calming hand on Will's shoulder. Will promptly shoves it off, and turns his attention back to the officer.

"My wife is in there," Will says, and Lonny gets the feeling that it's not the first time Will has said that in the very short conversation he's been having with the police officer.

"I know, sir," the officer says with a sigh. "Can you calm down, back up, and let us do our job?"

"You don't understand," Will says, and they don't. They don't understand. Will can't calm down. He can't. Because Mac is still inside. His whole goddamn _life_ is still inside that bank, and Will can't help but run through all the worst case scenarios, because that's what he does, that's who he is. And if the worst happens, he won't survive it. He won't.

When he said that Mac had to be okay, it wasn't bluster or hyperbole. She _had_ to be okay. Otherwise he wouldn't be.

"Will, let's get out of the way," Lonny guides him over to just in front of the police barrier. He knew better than to try to get Will on the other side of the barrier. "Maybe we should call someone? Charlie?" Lonny's not an idiot. This is something he's not equipped to deal with. Take a bullet, yes, but this? He's never been good at this kind of shit.

Will makes a non-committal noise, and Lonny takes that as close to an agreement as he's going to get from Will at this point. Will's hands are shoved into his pockets, his mouth set in a firm line, and his gaze never wavering from the front door of the bank.

Charlie answers on the third ring, and Lonny clears his throat.

"Mr. Skinner?"

"Lonny?" Charlie sounds surprised to hear from him, and then his voice gets low. "What's happened?"

Lonny glances over at where Will is still staring at the front door of the bank, and sighs.

"I think you should come down here," Lonny tells Charlie. "We have a situation."

* * *

The three are arguing over what to do.

The fact that they seem completely in over their heads is far from reassuring for Mac. She rests her head on her knee and contemplates slipping her phone out of her bra while they're distracted. She wants Will to know she's okay; she needs him to know that she's hanging in there, and that she's safe, for the moment at least, and that he shouldn't panic.

If she knows her husband, and she likes to think she does, she knows he's, in all probability, freaking out. She just wants to help lower his blood pressure a little bit. Get him out of his own head.

The young teller whose shaking hands had opened the bank vault had ended up sitting next to Mac against the wall, and she looks much like Mac imagines Will does outside. Her eyes are wide, her hands are trembling, and she looks on the verge of a nervous break-down.

"It'll be okay," Mac says softly, shooting a quick glance over to the huddled three, and reaching a gentle hand out to touch the young woman on the arm. "We'll be out of here soon." Mac doesn't even believe the words she's saying, but the girl seems to calm marginally, and so Mac repeats it. "It's going to be okay."

"It's my third day," the young woman whispers, her voice slightly incredulous.

"It's a hell of a first week. You should probably ask for a raise," Mac tries to smile, but she's a little too terrified to pull it off. "I'm Mackenzie, by the way. Mac."

"Hannah," the girl introduces.

"You did well over there," Mac tells her seriously. "You kept calm. That was good."

"I just want to go home," Hannah murmurs, her voice edged with tears, and Mac reaches for her hand and gives it a squeeze.

You and me both, Mac thinks.

"We don't even have enough money to make this worthwhile!" Mac hears Sparky complain and she turns her attention back to the three.

"We can try to go out the back door," Lurch suggests.

"You're an idiot," the Captain says. "They'll have the whole place surrounded, dip shit." He kicks a garbage can over, and the sound of it makes Mac jump, her heart racing, and her hands slick.

The Captain has a temper, and that scares the ever loving shit out of Mackenzie.

Calm, she repeats in her head. Just keep calm.

The phones ringing from behind the teller's desk startle Mac, and Hannah grips Mac's hand tighter.

Give them what they want, Mac pleads silently. Give them what they want and let us go. Please, just let us go.

* * *

Will's attention is turned away from the door when he hears Charlie and Jim calling his name, and glances over to see them hurrying towards him.

"She's going to be okay," is the first thing that Charlie says. "We'll get her out of there, and then you two can take the rest of the day off. Hell, take tomorrow too." Will doesn't reply; the only thing bouncing around his head is Mackenzie's name, and he's sure if he tried to open his mouth that's all that would fall out. _Mac. Be okay. Mac. Please. Mac. Please. _

"Has anything happened?" Jim asks, his arms crossed, and looking at Will kind of like this is _his_ fault, which is absurd, but Will understands feeling useless.

He's got the market cornered on feeling useless right about now, and he doesn't have the energy to care if Jim is unfairly upset with him or not.

Will shakes his head, and returns his attention back to the bank door.

"I'm going to go try to find something out," Jim insists, and Will knows that the cops don't know anything, but he also knows that Jim knows that too. Jim knows that, and he needs to do _something_, and so he watches as Jim trots over to a cop and gesticulates wildly.

"It's going to be okay," Charlie says, but they're empty words, and they both know that. Charlie has no idea if it's going to be okay. Nothing will be okay until Mackenzie is out of there.

"They don't know fucking anything," Jim announces angrily when he reappears at Will and Charlie's side.

Will's phone buzzes and he glances down at the screen and his heart stops when he sees Mackenzie's name. His finger shakes as he slides open the message.

_I'm okay. I hid my phone. There are three of them. We're against the far right wall. There are seven of us. I love you, so much. _

"She's okay," Will speaks up, clearing his throat roughly. She's _okay_. And he's going to fucking kill her for keeping her phone and risking getting caught.

"What?" Charlie asks, turning sharply on his heel to look at Will.

"She texted me," Will held up his phone. "That idiot kept her phone on her and texted me." He's not sure if he wants to laugh or cry, but he tightens his grip on his phone, his connection to Mac, and shakes his head. He makes his legs move towards the police officers, and holds out his phone.

"Mr. McAvoy, we don't know anything," the officer Will had argued with earlier sighs when he sees Will approaching.

"No, but I do," Will replies. "My wife, my infuriating, genius wife kept her phone. She just texted me. There are three of them. She said the hostages," and that word makes him swallow hard. Because Mac's a hostage. She's a fucking hostage. And the word makes it terrifyingly real. "are against the right wall. There are seven of them."

"Jesus," the officer breathes out. "Can I see that?" And Will begrudgingly hands over his phone, and the cop reads the message, and then calls out to the negotiator who just arrived. "That's...your wife is stupid and brave."

That assessment is something that Will can wholeheartedly agree with.

The officer hands back Will's phone, asking him to keep close, and Will sends back a message.

_Keep safe. Keep the information coming. I love you. You have no idea how much. Don't do anything else to draw attention to yourself. I love you. I love you. I love you. _

* * *

Mac slides the phone back into her bra as soon as she sends the message. She's an idiot, she knows. She also knows that Will is probably trying to figure out if he wants to kiss her or kill her for keeping her phone, but she knows it was necessary.

The trio's attention is diverted, they've moved onto arguing about whether or not to answer the phone, who will answer the phone, how to handle the phone, and Mac fights the urge to roll her eyes. They're idiots, but that might make them more dangerous.

"Get one of them to answer the phone," Sparky says, waving in the direction to where their seven hostages are still slumped against the wall. The Captain pauses, and then walks over, and Mac's just relieved she managed to get the message off to Will and her phone hidden again before this happened.

Mac knows before it even happens that she's going to be the one they pick. That's just her luck, and so it doesn't surprise her when the Captain lands on her, pointing at Mac and then pointing at the phone.

"You. Up," he directs and Mac climbs shakily to her feet. "Answer the damn phone."

"Hello?" She answers, and she's proud that her voice is steady.

"Who am I speaking with?" The officer on the other end asks.

"Mackenzie McHale," Mac replies.

"Ah, of the famous text message," the officer says, and Mac breathes out a silent sigh of relief that Will got the message and relayed the information.

"Tell him we need to leave," Lurch insists to Mac. "Tell him just let us leave and no one has to get hurt."

"They said just let them leave and no one will get hurt," Mac parrots back. She's gripping the phone tightly in her sweaty hands, and she suddenly notices the Captain's eyes narrow.

"Hang up the phone," he demands, and she immediately does as she's told.

"Why'd you make her do that?" Sparky asks, and the Captain roughly grabs Mac's hand where her engagement ring is sparkling up him.

"That's a pretty big rock you've got there, Mackenzie McHale," the Captain tells her, his voice cold and calculating.

"Take it," she says immediately. She knows Will has the thing insured, and she also knows that he'd be the first to tell her to get rid of it if it means keeping herself safe.

"I'm thinking a husband who can buy his wife a pretty ring like this will pay a lot to see her safe," the Captain grins at Mac through the mask, and she feels herself go cold. "Maybe this isn't such a waste, after all, Mackenzie McHale," and she hates how he keeps saying her name. Hates the sound of it on his tongue. "You should call your husband, Mackenzie. I think I need to talk to him."


	4. But it's not an attempt at decency

Hi guys! Thanks for the nice words! I'm glad you're enjoying it. I'm having a crazy amount of fun writing it. And I'm writing it quickly! It's melodramatic and suspenseful, and I'm digging it. I'm glad to see you are too! Thanks again for reading!

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters.

* * *

Will's phone began to ring and he glanced down and didn't recognize the number. He thought about letting it go to voicemail, but he stepped away from the officers and answered it.

"Hello?"

"Will?" And just like that everything seems to stop.

"Mac? Oh God, _Mac_," he breathes out. "Are you okay, sweetheart?"

"Will," and his heart stops because it sounds like she's barely holding it together. And what is she doing calling his phone? "They want to talk to you." He doesn't ask who. Something is wrong. Something _went_ wrong, he just knows it. Did they find the phone? Shit, shit, shit.

"Honey," he starts to say, but Mac's voice is replaced by a male voice, cold and low.

"I have your wife here," the voice tells him, and Will waves his arm to get the attention of the negotiator. "She's got a mighty big diamond on her hand. I can imagine that set you back, Will? Was it? So I've got a question, _Will_, what's your wife's safety worth to you?" The negotiator, _call me Pete, Mr. McAvoy_, is by his side and so is Jim, hovering just beyond Will's periphery.

Will's mouth is dry, and he feels a buzzing in his head. Mac's ring. Jesus. _That fucking ring._ It's ostentatious, he liked that about it. He liked that he could afford to put something that nice on Mac's finger to show the world that she belonged to him.

"Take the ring," he says firmly.

"Oh, don't worry, I already took care of that. Your wife gave that up pretty willingly," he laughs and the sound sends a chill down Will's spine, but he's relieved to hear that Mac didn't fight over the ring. He'll buy her a new ring. He can always buy her a new ring. He can't…if she doesn't…

He feels like he's going to throw up, and Pete's at his elbow, a confused look on his face.

"I'll pay anything," Will says, and he means it. He'll pay anything to get Mackenzie out of there. Anything.

"Good, I'm glad we understand each other," the man tells Will. "I think we'll get along, Will, and I'll tell you what. As a sign of good faith, I'll let you speak to Mackenzie again." And there's a shuffle while Will holds his breath.

"Will," Mac's back on the phone, her voice steadier this time.

"We're going to get you out of there, okay, sweetheart? You just hang in there," Will tells her, his fingers digging into the phone. He's pressing it so hard into his ear that it's almost painful, but he can't think about that, he can't think about anything other than Mac and the fact that that _fucking_ ring could have possibly put her in danger. That ring was nothing but trouble from the word go.

"I love you," Mac's voice is soft.

"I love you, God, Mac, I love you so much, we're going to get you out of there," Will repeats. The line goes dead, and Will turns to the expectant faces staring back at him as he hangs up his phone.

"What's going on? Was that Mac?" Jim asks. Will nods, and drops his head for a moment to collect his thoughts.

"Mr. McAvoy," Will can see why Pete is the negotiator; his voice is calm and reassuring when nothing about this situation is calm or reassuring. "What's going on?"

"They noticed Mac's ring," Will says roughly.

"Be hard not to," Jim mutters.

"They think they can use her as a bargaining chip," Charlie fills in. "Oh fuck." Which pretty much neatly sums up Will's feelings on the subject.

"Yeah," Will says and he looks back at the bank and wishes, not for the first or last time, that he had told Mac they just didn't have time to stop that morning.

* * *

When the Captain grabs the phone out of Mac's hands and hangs it up, she feels the loss instantly. Hearing Will's voice had been comforting, and she wanted to just stay on the phone with him. Continue hearing his voice, rumbling and reassuring, telling her that they would get her out of there.

"Go back down and sit with the others," the Captain orders, and Mac does as she's told.

"Let's ask for ten million," Lurch suggests.

"We don't know if they have that kind of money," Sparky points out.

"Mackenzie McHale, what's your net worth?" the Captain snickers, and Mac hugs her knees close to her chest and doesn't answer.

Sparky is flipping through her wallet, pulling out credit cards and handing them over to the Captain. He stops at a picture, and tilts his head thoughtfully.

"Holy shit," Sparky says. "You'll never believe it. Her husband is _Will McAvoy_."

"Who?" Lurch asks, and Sparky rolls his eyes.

"Get a fucking clue, Will McAvoy. From NewsNight? He's that news guy," Sparky says. "You really need to watch the news more often."

"Mr. Big Shot News Guy, huh? That's your husband? Quick, look up his net worth. See how much he made last year," the Captain instructs. He comes back over to Mackenzie and leans down, and grins at her. "I do hope it's enough. I would hate for him to have to report his wife's untimely demise on the news tonight." He straightens and starts to walk back to where Lurch and Sparky are searching the internet to find out how much money Will raked in last year.

It's a lot, she knows. And other than his beautiful apartment, and the ring that was now clutched in the Captain's sweaty hand, he had never been very good at spending it. He was good at lavishing Mac with gifts, both before and now that they were married, but even that didn't put a dent in his sizable income.

Mac swallows hard. Maybe she underestimated these guys. Maybe they weren't as stupid as they appeared.

"We should ask for six million," Sparky finally says. "They've got it. We ask for too much and we might push our luck. Six is a good number. Two each."

"Two each?" The Captain repeats. "I planned this whole fucking thing. I noticed the ring on her finger. We ask for six, and I get four and you two each get one." Sparky looks like he's going to argue, and his mouth opens and then closes again, but something has shifted, Mac can tell. She's always been good at reading people, and she can see the seed of resentment has been planted.

Shit, she thinks. The last thing we all need is for these guys to turn on one another.

Six million. It's a lot of money, but Sparky is right, they have it. Between her trust fund and Will's salary, they can more than cover six.

The phone rings again, and the Captain snatches up the phone.

"Put Will McAvoy on the phone," he demands lazily. There's a pause and then a shit-eating grin slides across his face. "Mr. McAvoy, six million should do it. You hand over six million in unmarked bills and you can have back your lovely wife. You have an hour. Otherwise, we're putting a bullet in that pretty little head of hers. Do we understand one another? Good."

* * *

"I understand," Will says, his eyes closed. He can't get the image of Mackenzie, bleeding, hurt, dead, fuck, _dead_, out of his head. He hears the dial tone, and the phone slips from his hands and tumbles to the ground.

"Mr. McAvoy, the first question is, do you want to pay?" Pete asks, and Will wheels around and the fury is unmistakeable in his voice.

"The fuck? _Of course _I'm going to pay," he shouts.

"Okay, then," Pete doesn't flinch. "Okay. You work on getting the money. In the meantime, we're going to work on how to get in there before that hour deadline." When he leaves the three of them alone, Will immediately pulls out his phone and calls his attorney and his financial adviser.

"How do you even get unmarked bills? Fuck," Will mutters. Charlie hangs back, making his own calls, and only Jim stays put, his arms wrapped tightly around his middle. Mac's his family. She's his family, and he almost wishes that he were in there with her. If she has to go through this, he wishes that he was going through it with her. They'd gone through some shit together, and always managed to come out relatively okay.

Jim needs Mac to come out of this okay. He knows that Will is holding on by a thread, and he wishes that he could be more supportive, more like Charlie, but he can't. He _can't_, because that's Mac in there. He once carried her bleeding body through the streets of Islamabad praying to every deity that would listen, and he didn't go through that, _she _didn't go through that, to end up a victim of being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Will appears back at his side, and Jim glances up at him. Will's oddly calm now, a look of determination on his face.

"We're going to get her out of there," he tells Jim, and his voice is sure, and strong, and Jim can't do anything but nod and hope.

* * *

The Captain decides that Mac should be separated from the other hostages, and he grabs her arm and tugs her back to the bank manager's office, shutting the glass door behind her.

She's not entirely sorry to be back there. It gives her an opportunity to pull out her phone to send another message to Will. She keeps it under the desk, keeping an eye on the three as they joke and wait for the phone to ring again.

Since hanging up with Will they've been in high spirits, and it makes Mac incredibly uneasy.

_You have an hour. Otherwise, we're putting a bullet in that pretty little head of hers._

She's certainly not interested in finding out if that's a serious threat or not.

Mackenzie knows her husband; knows that Will is moving heaven and earth to get her out of there. She's not surprised to see his text message back. _I love you. I love you. I love you. _It's so simple, and for the first time all day she feels hot tears prick her eyes. Her fingers trembles as she types back a reply.

_They've moved me to the manager's office in the back. It's on the left side of the bank. The rest are still against the right wall. I'm still okay, Will. Everything's going to be fine. _

She's not sure if she believes that or not. She's a kind of terrified that she's never been before, despite having survived a stabbing and several war zones. She just wants Will. He makes her feel safe, and loved, and she wants his arms around her, damn it.

She turns the chair slightly to slide the phone back into her bra. There's nothing left to do now but wait.


	5. And if you're well off

I realized I did the math wrong when I was trying to figure out how much each dude would get. Math is not my strong suit. I'm going back and fixing that. Oops. Thanks to siege98 for pointing it out! Math's tough, guys, and in my defense, I was a history major. Thanks for still reading and reviewing! I'm already halfway done with the next chapter, so fear not, kind readers! I'll try to have it up in the next day or so. Also, and you probably don't care about this, but the city of Pittsburgh is going _bananas_, my beloved Buccos are playing the Cards tonight in St. Louis in the playoffs. The _playoffs_, you guys! We haven't seen post-season baseball since 1992 here in the Burgh. Let's go Bucs!

* * *

Will has never been good at waiting.

And standing here? Waiting for the phone to ring, waiting for the cops to figure out a plan to get Mac out of there, waiting for his wife to be safe and in his arms? It's torture.

"I can't…I can't really help that much, but I want to give _something_, I want to help get Mac out of there. And I can't do anything else, and I just need to do something," Jim offers, and it makes Will think of Mac Rudy-ing him on Valentine's Day, and it makes his heart hurt. Good God, he loves her. And it's been twenty minutes, and in forty minutes they're going to shoot her, and if that happens they might as well put a bullet in his brain as well.

"Jim, I appreciate it, really, but it's not necessary," Will says. Jim's a good kid, and he loves Mac. Will knows that Jim is almost as scared as he is, and he wants to be able to reassure Jim that everything will be okay, but Will's never been very good at comforting other people, especially when he's _thisclose_ to losing it himself.

"She has to be okay," Jim mutters. "She _has_ to be." Will doesn't say anything, because what's there to say? Yes, she has to be okay.

His phone rings and it's his attorney, telling him they're working on the money, and to hang tight.

Hang tight? Hang fucking tight? Will feels like punching someone in the face, and Lonny notices his fists clench and throws his hand on Will's back.

"I won't ask you how you're doing, because I think I know the answer to that," Lonny says. "But she's smart and she's strong and if anyone can make it out of there, it's Mackenzie." And Will nods, because all those things are true, but what if, what if, _what if?_

And he turns his attention back to the bank, where God knows what's happening inside, and he waits.

* * *

The happy mood seems to dissipate out in the main lobby of the bank.

They were openly glaring at each other now, and Mac couldn't hear words, but she could see through the glass office door that they were arguing about something.

Mac wasn't sure what had gone wrong, but things were starting to splinter, and before she knew it, Lurch was barreling through the office door and pulling her up out of the chair, his fingers digging painfully into her arm.

"We can get more," he says, tugging her out into the lobby and pushing her towards the phone. "I don't just want one. That's bullshit. She's worth more."

"We talked about this," the Captain replies, and though he seems calm, Mac can hear a hard edge to his tone.

"No, _you_ just decided, we didn't_ talk_ about anything," Lurch argues. He grabs Mac and pushes her, hard, towards the phone. "Call your husband. Tell him the price just went up."

"No," the Captain is firm, and he reaches for Mac and pulls her away from the phone. "You're not in charge here. She's not calling anyone. We said six. You don't like it? You can leave. There's the door. She's going back in that office until we hear from her husband, and we're not discussing it anymore." Mac's sure she's going to have bruises on both arms from where the two are playing tug-of-war with her, and her terror ratchets up a notch when she registers that Lurch is pulling out a gun and pointing towards the two of them.

"Fuck you," Lurch growls. The Captain pulls out his own gun and points it right back at Lurch.

Things are going badly very quickly, and Mac can feel her body shaking. She sneaks a look over to where the rest of the hostages are sitting, wide-eyed, watching the exchange.

"Don't," the Captain says calmly. "I'm taking her back to the office. We're done discussing this." He pushes Mac towards the office, and only when she's safely back behind the door does she let out a choked sob.

She presses her hand to her mouth and tells herself to breathe.

Through the door she can see the Captain striding back over to where Lurch has put the gun away, yelling and throwing his hands in the air. She grips the edge of the seat and holds her breath.

She needs Will. She needs him, and she risks pulling out her phone to send him off a text message.

_I don't mean to make you worry, but things are starting to unravel in here. So I do hope you've got a plan. _

She places the phone on her lap, watching as the three continue their fight. Every once in a while one of them will point back to where she's sitting, and she shrinks back into the chair. Her phone lights up and she glances down to see Will's reply.

_What do you mean unravel? Are you okay? We're working on it, just try to stay calm. _

Right. Calm. Stay calm.

_They're starting to fight with one another. I'm still back in the office, so try not to worry. But things are getting ugly, and I'd rather not stick around to watch it all implode if it's all the same to you. _

"WE'RE CALLING HER HUSBAND!" She hears Lurch scream, and she shoves the phone off her lap and it clatters onto the floor. She only has time to push it with her foot under the desk before he's grabbing her again, dragging her out far more roughly than last time.

"No," the Captain says, but this time Sparky pulls out his gun and levels it at the Captain.

"You're not in charge anymore. Two against one," he says. "I'm not walking out of here with only one million while you get _four_, you greedy asshole. You couldn't have done this without us, and it's about time you acknowledge that. She's calling her husband and she's asking for more. Got it?" Lurch grabs Mac's hair and she winces, but doesn't make a sound as he pulls her towards the phone.

"Make the call," he demands, and Mac's hands shake as she picks up the receiver. "Tell him we want more."

She dials Will's number and he answers on the first ring, with a breathless,

"Hello?"

"They want more," she whispers.

"Mac? Are you okay? Sweetheart, what's going on in there?"

"They want more," she says, her voice a little louder.

"How much more?" He asks, and she repeats the question back.

"Nine," Sparky says. "Still shouldn't be a problem."

"Nine," Mac replies.

"I'm going to need more time," Will says, his voice desperate.

"He needs more time," Mac tells Sparky; she sneaks a glance over at the Captain and sees his arms crossed over his chest, his mouth set in a firm line.

Stay calm, she thinks to herself. Stay calm.

"No," Lurch shakes his head. "No. No. He had one hour. He's got a half hour still." He grabs Mac's hair and pulls hard enough that she can't stop the cry of pain that slips out of her mouth. "Tell him."

"You've got a half hour," Mac says, and Sparky reaches out and hangs up the phone before she can get another word in.

* * *

"We need to get her out of there," Will insists as soon as he hears the dial tone. "Now. _Now_."

"They're working on it," Lonny attempts, but Will isn't having any of it. Mackenzie is terrified. He can hear it in her voice. And she's panicking. He could hear the underlying panic in her tone, and he knows Mac, he knows that she's not prone to panicking, so if she is, something is wrong. She knows how to read people, read situations.

Unravel.

That was the word she used. Things are starting to unravel.

Will's damn smart. He can read between the lines. They've turned on one another, and that makes them incredibly dangerous.

And that _sound _she made. That wounded sound. He can't get it out of his head.

Will wasn't sure if their threat was sincere before, but he's sure now. They'll kill her. Oh _fuck_.

He has to put his hands on his knees and take in deep, gulping breaths. He feels Charlie's hand on his back.

"What happened?" Charlie asks, and Will is aware of every precious tick of the clock, but the panic is threatening to overwhelm him. "Will?"

"They want more. They want nine million. They're…Mac said they're starting to unravel. That was what she said. Unravel."

"Jesus," Charlie mutters.

"I need to…I need…" Will straightens up, and begins to pace. "I need…"

"Sit down," Charlie instructs. "You need to sit down. I'll make the calls. Just sit down." He guides Will to the curb and Will sinks down. Jim drops next to Will, and then drops his head into his hands.

"Fuck," Will hears Jim whisper. "_Fuck_."

* * *

"I think that was a mistake," the Captain speaks up after the phone is hung up. Mac is frozen to the spot, her scalp aching, and her pulse racing.

"No one asked you," Lurch tells him harshly, and the Captain laughs a little. The sound makes Mac's blood run cold.

"You might as well just shoot her now," the Captain says. "He's not going to be able to do it. You didn't give him enough time."

"He has plenty of time," Sparky chimes in. "Shut up."

"If you had listened to me," the Captain continues, ignoring Sparky. "I would have told you that. He has his guys working on getting the six, and now you want nine? That might take a little more effort. He can't do it in a half hour, and you can't back down now. You might as well just kill her now. She's useless."

"Shut. Up." Lurch's fists clench as he moves closer, but the Captain's grin doesn't falter.

"Useless," the Captain repeats. "Here, I'll do it for you." And he pulls out his gun and levels it at Mac.

"Don't," Sparky's gun is out and pointed at the Captain. "She's our nine million dollar paycheck. Don't you dare." Mac doesn't dare move, she doesn't dare even _breathe_.

_Will_, she thinks. _I love you._

Lurch pulls out his gun and points it at the Captain.

"Put it down," he instructs. The Captain finally turns his attention away from Mac and she commands her feet to move; she starts backing away slowly, trying to get out of the line of fire without drawing their attention back to her. She hits the island in the middle of the lobby and starts to inch her way around as they continue their standoff.

Her fingers dance along the cool marble as she slowly makes her way around. They haven't glanced back over in her direction once. She can see Lurch's arm trembling from the effort, and for the first time she can see the Captain is nervous.

Mac's not sure which one fired first, but suddenly there's a hale of bullets and she doesn't think, she just drops to the ground and covers her head and prays.


	6. Well, then I'm happy some for you

Yeah, sorry about that last ending. But! Here's the next chapter! It's a little shorter than the rest, but I wanted to get it up quickly. Once again, thanks for reading and reviewing! You guys rock!

* * *

"Was that a gun shot?" Will's voice is frantic, and he rushes towards the bank doors, getting pretty far before Lonny's body stops him. "MAC!"

"Will! You can't," Lonny starts, but they're interrupted by a cacophony of gunshots.

They can hear the sound of bullets ricocheting, and Will can't breathe, he can't move. The officers are rushing around them, shouting and running, and Will is suddenly frozen. He hears the sound of glass shattering, and he still can't move, _he can't move_.

His legs feel shaky, and he's about to drop to his knees when he hears Jim.

"Where's Mac? Where's Mac?" And it's enough to snap Will out of it.

"MAC!" He screams again, and there's just so many people, so many people and so much noise, and he can't see her, he can't see anything. There are cops rushing into the bank, and the gunshots stop, and he hears someone shout for a medic, and if Mac's hurt, or worse, he swallows hard, if she's _dead_….he won't survive it. He won't.

They bring out a stretcher and Will strains to see who is on it. He catches a glimpse of blonde, not brown, hair, and breathes out.

"Where is she?" He hears Charlie mutter behind him. Lonny's firm hand is still stopping Will from rushing forward, and the wait is killing him.

Will's eyes dart frantically around the scene, watching as police come streaming in and out of the building, but he doesn't see Mackenzie yet.

"Mac," Jim breathes out her name like a prayer, and Will glances over to where an officer is helping her out of her building.

And his breath catches in his throat when he sees her stepping out over the debris and broken glass, she's holding her arm and she looks dazed, but she's alive, she's _alive_, and he remembers how to move, propelling himself towards her.

She's in his arms a moment later, his arms wrapping tightly around her and she's sobbing into his sweater, and he presses her head into his chest, dropping a kiss into her hair, and resting his cheek against the top of her head. And he tightens his grip on her, and can do nothing but whisper,

"It's okay, it's okay, I've got you, I've got you, it's okay," over and over and over again.

"Will," she sobs. "Oh God, Will." Her hands grip his sweater, twisting the material between her fingers, and she's hysterical, and he's just so grateful that she's back in his arms. The relief washes over him, and leaves him slightly shaky, but she's gripping him like he's the only thing holding her up, and maybe he is, and so he steadies himself, pulling her closer, if that's possible, and repeating that he loves her and she's safe until he believes it himself. Her crying reduces to hiccups, not the heartbreaking sobs it was when she first stepped into his arms, and he's quite content to stay there holding her for forever, until Jim's voice breaks through.

"Will! She's bleeding!" Jim exclaims and Will's panic is back, and he gently pulls her back so that he can look at her. He doesn't let go, he can't let go of her. He needs to hold onto her. He needs to touch her, to reassure himself that she's standing here in front of him, whole and relatively unharmed.

"Are you okay? Mac? Mac? Are you okay?" He asks, and he notices for the first time that she _is_ bleeding. Her sleeve is soaked in blood and there's a gash on her head that's beginning to drip down her face. "Jesus, Mac. You're hurt."

"I think a bullet grazed," she starts to say, but her voice trails off, and he notices for the first time that she's trembling; her whole body is shaking, and he takes her uninjured arm and gives it a gentle squeeze.

"Mac?" He asks, and she blinks a couple of times, her eyes dazed.

"We need some help over here!" Jim yells. He's hovering just beside Will, a concerned frown on his face. Will can see Charlie, just beyond Jim, but everything is a little fuzzy. The only thing that matters is Mackenzie. Safe. Here.

"I'm going to be sick," Mac mutters, and before Will can react, she's leaning over and retching. Will keeps his hand on her back as she empties her stomach out, leaning over and murmuring nonsensical words of comfort that he hopes help.

The EMT arrives and starts to lead her gently to the ambulance, and for the first time since she stepped out, Will has to let go of her. He follows a step behind, insisting to both the medics and Lonny that he's going in the ambulance with her, and woe to anyone that tries to stop him.

"We'll meet you at the hospital," Charlie tells Will, and Will nods, climbing into the back of the ambulance with Mac and holding her hand tightly.

"Thank God, you're okay," he says softly. "Thank God."

* * *

When Charlie and Jim get to the hospital, they find Will slumped in a chair, his hair sticking up in all directions from his hand constantly running through it.

"Where is she?" Charlie asks. "Is she okay?"

"They took her to do a CT scan," Will says. He glances down and looks at his wedding ring, twisting it slightly on his finger. "A bullet grazed her arm, and they stitched it up. They stitched up the gash in her forehead, she said she hit it on the corner when she threw herself down onto the ground. Other than that, they think she's just fine. Shaken up, but fine. They want to keep her overnight for observation."

"Thank Christ she's all right," Charlie says, tipping his head back and closing his eyes for a moment. "And the guys who did this?"

"Dead," Will answers, his voice flat. "The officer came to try to get her statement, but she was a little out of it. They're going to come back tomorrow when she's thinking a little clearer. But he said all three were dead. Two of the hostages are in surgery, and the others just have minor injuries."

Will wasn't exactly sorry that the three bank robbers were dead. They had only talked briefly about what had happened inside the bank, but Will had heard her terror over the phone, she was sure they were going to kill her, _he_ was sure they were going to kill her.

"Mr. McAvoy?" A nurse appears and Will jumps to his feet. "Your wife is back in her room, I can take you back there if you'd like."

"Go," Charlie says. "We're going to go back to the office. Everyone's a little worked up, as I'm sure you can imagine. We'll let everyone know she's okay. Give her our love, and tell her we'll be by to see her later." Jim looks like he might argue, even opens his mouth, but closes it again and nods.

"Thanks," Will says. "I think it's safe to say that neither Mac nor I will be in to do the show tonight." And Charlie smiles for the first time all day, and shakes his head a little bit.

"Don't come in the rest of the week either," he insists. "Just get our girl better. We'll hold down the fort." With that he leads Jim out of the waiting room, and Will follows the nurse back to Mackenzie.

When Will gets back to the private room, Mackenzie's eyes are closed. He settles down in the chair next to her and picks up her hand, brushing a kiss along her knuckles. Her eyes flutter open, and she gives him a small smile.

"Hey," she sighs.

"Hey," he replies. And then she's weeping, her free hand coming up to her mouth as she chokes back a sob, and he stands immediately, reaching down to carefully pull her into his arms. "You're okay. It's over. You're okay."

"I was so scared," she whimpers, and his heart breaks a little bit.

"You and me both," he tells her.

"Can you just hold me?" She asks in a quiet voice. "I don't want to talk about it right now." And he can't argue. There will be plenty of time to talk about it later, now he just wants to hold her, all day all he wanted to do was hold her.

Minding all her bumps and bruises, he climbs carefully into the bed beside her, gathering her in his arms. She rests her head in the crook of his neck, and he can feel her hot tears on his skin.

"I love you," he whispers into her hair. "I love you so much."


	7. But I'd rather not celebrate my defeat

I wanted to get this done sooner, but you know, life and stuff. I've started the next chapter, so that's good news! Thanks for reading and reviewing!

* * *

When Mac drifts off to sleep, Will carefully climbs out of bed to try not to wake her. She has a pretty serious concussion, and her arm's going to be mighty sore, but it could be so much worse.

It hits Will like a train. It _could_ have been so much worse. It could have easily gone another way. The knowledge drains him of all his energy and he drops into the chair next to Mac's bed.

"Shit," he says to himself as tears begin to trickle down his cheeks. He'd been trying to be strong all day, for Mac inside the bank, and then once she was out, and it was exhausting.

She could have died. He could be sitting planning her funeral right now, and the thought, the image of crying over her grave, is so strong that it sucks the breath right out of him.

Will looks back to where his wife is sleeping peacefully. It's only late afternoon, and it feels like this day has been endless. He picks up her hand and brushes his finger along her wedding band. Her family ring, the ring that was the catalyst for stopping in the first place, is still safely on her other hand.

He allows himself to cry a little longer; resting his head on the bed next to her hand, before pulling himself together and stepping into the bathroom to splash water on his face.

She's fine, he reminds himself. She's _fine_.

When he's settled back into the chair, there's a soft knock at the door and Pete, his friendly neighborhood negotiator, is stepping inside.

"How is she?" He asks quietly.

"Fine," Will replies, and she is, she is, she _is_. But she almost wasn't.

"Can we talk for a moment?" Pete asks, and Will stands, leaving a kiss on Mac's forehead, before stepping out into the hallway.

"I should thank you," Will starts, and Pete shakes his head.

"I didn't do anything. I didn't get her out safely, she got herself out safely," Pete says. "The first officers in there said that she got herself mostly behind the island in the middle of the lobby. There were bullet holes in the other side. She was almost directly in the line of fire, Mr. McAvoy. She got herself out of there. I didn't do a damn thing."

"Jesus," Will breathes out, and feels lightheaded. Mac's so much smarter, so much _braver,_ than he is. He feels a physical ache, and needs to get back to her side. Needs to see her chest move up and down with her even breathing, needs to know that she's okay, despite the bullet holes and being _almost directly in the line of fire_, for Christ's sake.

"I wanted to return this," Pete extends his hand and in the middle is Mac's engagement ring. That goddamn engagement ring.

"I don't know if she's going to want that back," Will gives a slight laugh, bordering on hysterical, but reaches for it anyway.

"It wasn't the ring's fault. It wasn't her fault for wearing it, and it wasn't your fault for buying it for her," Pete's voice is firm. "It was just dumb fucking luck."

"Right," Will says, but he's not fooling anyone.

"You should get back to your wife," Pete tells him. "I just wanted to return the ring. We'll be by to talk to Mackenzie tomorrow?"

"She's discharged in the morning," Will replies. "She said she just really wants to go home."

"We can come to you," Pete answers the unasked question and doesn't miss the relief in Will's eyes.

"We just really want to get home," Will says. And God, does he. He just wants to get Mac home and into their bed, and not leave for days. Maybe ever again.

Pete digs out a card and hands it to Will.

"Call me when you get her settled tomorrow," Pete instructs. "But we really need to get her statement as soon as possible." Will nods, slipping the card into his pocket.

"I need to..." Will gestures to Mac's room and it's Pete's turn to nod, giving Will a small wave and a,

"I'm glad she's okay," as he disappears down the hall.

* * *

Mac stirs hours later, and Will is still in the chair when her eyes open. He's reading something, and he glances up when she shifts in bed.

"Hey, sweetheart," he says softly, picking up her hand and giving it a squeeze.

"Have I been sleeping long?" She asks.

"Few hours. How's the head feeling?"

"Ugh," Mac replies. Her head is pounding, and her arm feels heavy and sore, and it all comes rushing back to her. The Captain's gun in her face, the hard fear in the bottom of her stomach, the thought that she might never get to see Will again. She feels like she might be sick again, but swallows hard and closes her eyes.

"Mac? What's the matter? What's wrong?" Will asks, his voice frantic. "What hurts?"

"He was going to kill me," her voice is soft, and Will's eyes widen. He didn't think she'd be ready to do this yet. If he was being honest, he had hoped that she wouldn't want to relive it yet. He wasn't sure if he was ready to hear it. He needed a little more time and reassurance that she was okay. He had wanted to be at home, where it was safe, surrounded by their things and their life before he heard about how it was almost all taken away from him.

But he's not going to stop her if she wants to talk.

"Which one, honey?"

"The Captain," Mac answers. "That's what I called him. I called him the Captain. He seemed to be in charge. And then there was Sparky and Lurch. I didn't know their names, I don't…I don't think I want to know their names." She takes a deep breath and reaches for Will's hand, and he's only too willing to oblige her. "Lurch and Sparky wanted more money. They were the ones who made me call you back to tell you that the price had gone up. The Captain told them that they didn't give you enough time. He said I was useless." She shudders, and Will leans forward to thumb away a couple of tears from her cheeks. "He pulled out the gun and said that he would just shoot me for them, because there was no way you'd be able to come up with the money in time. He pointed it at me. He pointed it right at me." She's crying in earnest now, and for the second time, Will climbs into the bed, wrapping her in his arms and rocking them gently back and forth.

He doesn't say it's okay, because this is so not okay. This is far from okay. Mac had a gun in her face, and that will never be okay.

"I was working on the money," it feels important that she knows that. He's not sure why, but he needs to tell her that. "I would have paid anything to get you out of there. I would have sold our fucking apartment if I had to. I would have done _anything_ to get you out."

"I know that," Mac's voice is firm. "Of course I know that." And just like that, she's his strong, resilient wife. Just like that, he _knows_ they're going to be okay. _She's_ going to be okay.

"I was so fucking scared," Will admits.

"I know," Mac buries her face in Will's chest and he brings his hand up and tangles it in her hair. "I knew you would be. That's why I kept my phone. I wanted to be able to tell you I was okay."

"Until you weren't," Will points out. "Until a gun was pointed at you."

"He didn't…Lurch and Sparky pulled out their guns and pointed them back at him," Mac's voice trembles, and he drops a kiss to the top of her head. "I was standing by the thing in the middle, you know? That thing where you can fill out your deposit slip? I was trying to get around to the other side without them noticing."

"That was good, that was so good," Will murmurs, tightening his hold on her. He can't get her close enough.

Mac doesn't say anything else, just sighs into his neck and presses her damp face into his skin.

"You should rest," Will says after a few beats of silence. "Just rest."

* * *

Mac, thankfully, sleeps the rest of the night. Will sleeps fitfully beside her, and is incredibly relieved when the discharge papers arrive in the morning. Sloan follows closely behind, with a bag and a change of clothes for Mackenzie.

"Kenz," Sloan exhales when she sees Mac in the bed, and her bottom lip trembles.

"I'm okay," Mackenzie reassures, and Will gets up and guides Sloan into the room. "Thank you for bringing me clothes. I didn't want to go home in scrubs." Mac's shirt was ruined, covered in blood. Will had a little bit of blood on his sweater from where she had pressed her face into the fabric, but he had just stripped it off and was wearing the oxford shirt underneath.

"Kenz," Sloan repeats.

"Come here," Mac gestures, and Sloan stumbles forward towards the bed until she's hugging Mac with as much force as she can manage.

"Shit," Sloan pulls back suddenly. "I didn't hurt you, right?"

"No, no, I'm okay," Mac tells her.

"You scared the shit out of us, Mac," Sloan chastises. "And I wasn't even _there_. I wanted to be, though, when Charlie burst in and told us that you were being held hostage, Jim and I fought about who would go down with him. I'm still not sure how he won, but he was insistent. You should have seen him, Mac, he was so shaken up, and I just…I'm _so _glad you're okay." Sloan throws her arms around her again, and Mac meets Will's eyes over Sloan's shoulder and for the first time, she smiles, and he feels his heart constrict.

"I'm okay, Sloan," Mac says gently, and Sloan nods a few times.

"No, no, I know," she says and she gives Mac a small smile. "Jim's on his way in. He didn't want to wait until you got home. He's pretty antsy to see you. We were all pretty antsy to see you." She gives Mac's hand a squeeze, and as if he was cued, Jim steps into Mac's room.

"Hey, Jim," Mac tries to put on a bright voice, but Will can hear the strain underneath it, and he knows that Jim can too.

"Mac," he says, crossing over the bed and ignoring both Will and Sloan. "Are you okay? How are you feeling?"

"I'm okay, really, I've been in worse shape before," she says, and Jim nods, because he knows. He was there. He was there and it was awful, but it wasn't anything like yesterday. Yesterday was worse. Yesterday was full of uncertainty and fear and long stretches where they had no idea if Mac was alive or hurt, and it was fucking terrible.

"Yeah," Jim says, and Mac reaches out a hand and Jim takes it. "You're definitely okay, though?"

"I'm okay, Jim," Mac reassures. "Seriously. I'm just ready to get out of here." Jim nods a couple of times.

"All you have to do is change and we can get the hell out of here," Will says, helping Mac out of bed. He leads her gently to the bathroom. "Need help changing?"

"We'll never get out of here if you help her change," Sloan pipes up, and Will shoots her a glare.

"I think I'm okay," Mac says, but her arm hurts. Her head fucking hurts too, but Will's already looking at her with concerned eyes, and she doesn't want to make him worry any more. She slips into the bathroom and is grateful that Sloan brought a button down shirt so that Mac doesn't have to lift up her sore arm. She manages to slide the jeans on, and gets a few of the vital buttons done before opening up the door and asking Will to do the rest.

Lonny appears, and with a frown, explains that they'll have to go out through the garage.

"Why?" Will asks, although he thinks he knows why, and his hands tighten into fists at the thought of photographers camped out in front of the hospital to get a picture of Mac leaving.

"Fair warning, there are lots of photographers outside. Outside your apartment and ACN too," Lonny says apologetically, and Mac sighs, and Will swears under his breath.

"We can go through the garage at the apartment too, Billy," Mac reasons. She slides her fingers through his and feels the tension drain out of him slightly.

"I hate that they're outside waiting to get a picture of you. You were just held fucking hostage, and all they care about is selling the pictures to the highest bidder," he's infuriated, and Mac wraps her good arm around him and rests her head on his chest.

"Let's just go home," she pleads softly. "Please, let's just go home?" And Will nods, tiredly, and with an arm wrapped around Mac, leads her to the waiting car to go home.


	8. And humiliation here with you

Will's not sure which one is happier to be home.

The minute they walk in the door, Mac visibly relaxes. She's home, she's safe, and Will wraps his arm around her shoulder and presses a kiss to her temple and they just let themselves relax for a moment.

They successfully managed to evade the photographers on the trip from the hospital to their apartment, Lonny having hired extra security to accompany them, and Will gets Mac settled on the couch before stepping out onto the balcony and glancing down to see a crowd gathered on the sidewalk in front of their door.

It _was_ news, unfortunately. The situation was news in and of itself, but when they found out that Mac, Will's wife and executive producer, was trapped inside, it blew up. He knew it would, but he still didn't like it.

Will steps back inside, shutting the door behind him, and Mac immediately notices his frown.

"How bad is it outside?" She asks, and he sighs.

"It's a fucking circus," he replies, crossing over and sitting down next to her. She tucks herself into his side, her arms circling around his middle, and he takes a moment to just breathe her in.

"Maybe the police can break it up, they're on their way, right?" And Will nods, and Mac sighs into his chest. "I just want it to be over with." Mac always did hate being the story, and Will hates that she's the center of _this _particular story. He still gets a little lightheaded thinking of all the ways it could have ended, and he hears her voice over and over in his head.

_He was going to kill me. _

She firmly believed that. Jesus, she must have been terrified.

"You're home, you're safe," he murmurs into her hair. He wants to keep repeating it until they both believe it. Until he doesn't feel like he might throw up at any moment and she doesn't look so damn fragile. "We have permission to skip work the rest of the week, and so we don't have to leave this apartment until Monday." And he doesn't plan on it.

Will's not sure how long they sit there, hands tangled together, Mac pressed into his side, but eventually the door buzzes and Will has to extract himself to let the cops up. He glances back at his wife, and sees Mac worrying her bottom lip between her teeth, a sure sign of nerves, and he wants nothing more than to tell the cops to back off. There were plenty of other witnesses; surely they don't need Mac to relive yesterday's events.

And God, was that only _yesterday_? It feels like it's been ages since he and Mac left their apartment in the morning, a smile on Mac's face as she leaned against him in the elevator. He wants to go back to yesterday, tug Mackenzie back into bed and stay there all day.

Pete and another cop he only vaguely recognizes from the day before step into the apartment. Officer Paulson is the other guy, Will can read his badge, and Will is sure he must have seen him yesterday, could have even talked to him, but the day's events are now a hazy, horrifying blur. Paulson whistles as he takes an appreciative look around Will and Mac's apartment, his eyes darting around at the high windows and expensive furniture. It's now warm and lived in, thanks to Mac, and Will can't imagine what he would have done if he had to come home to this beautiful apartment alone.

Mac's okay, he reminds himself, glancing over at where she's still curled up on the couch, her injured arm tucked against her. She's _okay_.

"How are you feeling today, Ms. McHale?" Pete asks politely.

"It's Mac," she corrects. "And fine. I'm...fine." Will's not so sure about that. He knows she's _physically _fine, but since the moment she dug her fingers into his sweater outside the bank, she's seemed almost breakable, and that's not an image he normally associates with his strong, resilient wife. He just wants to know what's going on in her head. He wants to help fix whatever's wrong, even though he recognizes that it's not an easy fix. "Let's just get this over with." And she reaches out her hand and Will takes it immediately, sitting down next to her on the couch as Pete and Officer Paulson sit in the chairs opposite.

"Start from the beginning," Pete suggests.

"I wanted to stop in and drop something off at my safety deposit box," Mac starts. "A ring. My family ring. I went in while Will stayed in the car." He should have gone in with her. He should have been there. The guilt is oppressive and heavy, and hits him full force. As if she can read his mind, Mac squeezes his hand and adds, "I was just running in and out. It was supposed to be quick. I was the next in line. There were only two tellers, and they were both busy. I don't know...I didn't see them come in. I was looking at my emails, but then I heard the blinds slam down and then they were there, waving guns and demanding that we drop to the floor." She's quiet for a moment, glancing down at her hands where the family ring still sits, and she twists it slightly.

"What happened next?" Pete asks.

"They wanted into the vault, and they were angry when the teller, Hannah, she said her name was Hannah," and then Mac stops, stricken. "Is she okay? Hannah, I mean? I never asked. I didn't..." She whips around to face Will and he can see that she's clearly upset. "I should have asked about...I didn't..."

"She's fine," Pete tells her. "She suffered a gunshot wound to the lower abdomen, and they did surgery and I'm told she'll make a full recovery."

"You had other things to worry about," Will says gently, placing a calming hand on Mac's knee.

"I should have asked," Mac shakes her head. She takes a deep breath, steeling herself, before continuing. "Hannah could get to where the safety deposit boxes were, but she couldn't open them without the owner of the box present. They asked us to toss our phones and purses, but I managed to hide my phone before I slid my purse over."

"Why did you do that?" Pete asks gently, and Mac looks over at Will before replying.

"I needed to be able to tell Will I was all right. It was really important that I tell him I was okay," she answers simply.

"Were you afraid that you would get caught with the phone?" Paulson asks, and he seems genuinely curious, and Mac nods, biting her lip.

"Terrified," she responds. "But I had to…I just…had to."

"What happened then?" Paulson asks. "You keep your phone; you're all on the floor, what happens next?"

"They were going to leave," Mac says softly. "They were upset that there wasn't as much money as they thought there would be, but they were going to leave."

"What stopped them?" Will is the one to ask. It could have all been over quickly. Mac could have walked out the door, fine, _fine_, and into Will's waiting arms. What went wrong?

"The cops arrived," Mac explains, and Will feels sick. He drops his head down between his knees and tries to breathe.

"Oh fuck," he mutters. "Fuck, fuck, _fuck_."

"What?" Mac asks, turning to face her husband, placing a concerned hand on his back. "Will? What?"

"I called them, I called the police," Will says, his voice tight. It's his fault. It's his fucking fault.

"To be fair," Pete interrupts. "A silent alarm was also triggered. We would have responded either way."

"Will," Mac's voice is firm. "You did the right thing. You had no way of knowing."

"I need…" Will staggers to his feet. "I just need a minute." He pushes past, ignoring Mac's look of concern, and throws open the balcony doors. Will's not sure how long he's been standing out there, taking in huge, gulping breaths of cold air when he hears Mackenzie clear her throat behind him.

"Billy," her voice is gentle, and he turns his head slightly to look at her.

"You should be inside. You shouldn't…it's freezing out here, you just got out of the hospital, you need to get back inside," he instructs.

"It wasn't your fault," Mac insists. "It wasn't. A silent alarm had already been triggered. The police were on their way regardless of your actions."

"Maybe not as quickly, maybe if I don't call they leave and you get to walk out of there," Will shouts and Mac flinches, but she knows that he's angry at himself.

"Will," Mac tries again, and he turns quickly, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her close, being mindful of her arm.

"I'm so sorry," he says, "I'm so damn sorry."

"It's not your fault, really, it's _not_. It was unfortunate timing, but I'm okay, I got out, I'm okay." He tucks his nose into her hair and they stand there for another moment before Mackenzie speaks up, "We really need to get back in there and finish with the police."

"Yeah," Will huffs, and takes her hand and they walk back in and settle themselves on the couch.

"Sorry," Mac apologizes and Pete waves her words away.

"It's not a problem, let's just go back. The police arrive, and then what happened?" Pete prompts.

"The phone rang, and the one in charge, I called him the Captain, he pointed at me and instructed me to answer the phone, and that's when he caught sight of my ring," she reaches over and squeezes Will's hand. "They started doing a little research, figured out Will was my husband, and came up with the six million number pretty quickly, but things started to splinter. The Captain wanted to take the lion's share, he claimed that he was in charge, it was his idea, and he deserved more. I think…I think that's what started the tension, but it started to build to a fever pitch. They moved me to an office to keep me away from the other hostages. I was able to text Will then, tell him that I was separated from the others, but then one of the other men, Lurch, came barreling back and demanding I call Will and ask for more money for my release."

"I would have…I would…" Will speaks up, and Mac places a soothing hand on his arm.

"I know," she reassures. "So I called. I called and told him the number had gone up." Will notices that Mac's voice has gone almost monotone. She's reciting the facts as if they were nothing more than a grocery list. It's more than a little concerning for him. "The Captain tells them that he thought that was a bad idea, that there was no way that Will was going to be able to come up with the money and then he pulled his gun out and pointed it at me. He said I was useless and he would just do them a favor and shoot me." She appears calm, but Will knows better, _knows_ her better. Her hands are trembling, almost imperceptibly, and Will captures one between his hands and she gives him a shaky smile.

"He pointed the gun _at_ you?" Paulson clarifies.

"Yes," Mac answers. She takes a deep breath. "But then they all started turning on each other. There was an island in the middle of the lobby, I thought, I mean, I started to inch my way back towards it. I thought it might be able to afford me a little protection if things got out of hand."

"Which they did," Pete adds.

"Which they did," Mac confirms. "I don't know who fired first. I hit my head on the way down on the corner, and everything after that is a little hazy. Everything got quiet after a few minutes, and an officer was there by my side suddenly asking if I was okay and if I had been hit."

Will doesn't like the tone of voice that Mac is using. She's shutting down. He can see her systematically shutting herself down, and it's fucking terrifying. He needs the cops to leave; she's trying to keep it together while they're here, and Will needs them to leave so that if she wants to break down, she can.

"And then I was walking out of the building," Mac finishes, and Pete nods.

"Thank you so much for doing this, Mac," Pete says, and Mac nods and Will hurries to his feet to show them out.

"Feel better," Officer Paulson offers as they head toward the elevator and Mac gives him a small smile in appreciation.

"If she thinks of anything else she would like to add, here's my card, but we've got a pretty good idea of what happened in there," Pete says, extending a card to Will.

Will tucks it into his wallet and when he steps back into the apartment, he finds Mac curled into a ball on their couch, her head resting on her knees.

"Want to talk about it?" Will asks, and Mac responds immediately.

"No, I really am fine, you know. It's something that happened, it's over, I'm okay."

And he knows she's lying. He just can't tell if it's to him or to herself.


	9. Someone come quickly

Thanks for continuing to read and review! You guys are the best.

* * *

Will doesn't push it that first day home. Mac's still hurt and exhausted, and he's just so over the moon happy that she's relatively unharmed and home that he doesn't want to force her into a conversation that she doesn't want to have.

He gives her back the engagement ring that Pete had returned, and he catches her face pale for a moment at the sight before she recovers, smiling at him and extending her hand so that he can return it to its rightful place.

"I'm glad you handed it over without a fight," Will tells her, and she leans forward on the couch so that he can sit down and then settles herself against him.

"I heard your voice telling me that the ring was replaceable," Mac answers. "But I was not."

"No," his voice is firm. "You are not."

They spend the day curled up around each other, alternating between watching movies and reading silently, just content to spend the day in each other's company. Will makes his famous grilled cheese for lunch and for dinner makes Mac's favorite comfort food: spaghetti and meatballs. By the end of the day, she's joking around a little, and though he catches a far away look on her face from time to time, she seems to be coping rather well all things considered.

As for him, he knows it's unhealthy, but it's easy enough to push his own impending freak out over the past day's events by focusing on Mac, and it's even easier to simply focus on her physical well being. Making sure her head's okay, changing the bandage on her arm. If he focuses enough of those things, he can almost push out the image of her with a gun to her head, a terrified look on her face.

It works, almost.

Until they crawl into bed, earlier than they have in months, Mac burrowed as close to Will as she possibly could be and Will more than happy to oblige.

A few hours later, Will wakes up to the sound of Mac screaming, and he bolts awake, his heart racing. She's tossing and turning next to him, whimpering, "no, no, no, please no," and it breaks his heart.

"Mac, Mac, you're dreaming, wake up, sweetheart," he pleads and her eyes fly open, and she begins to sob, loud, heaving sobs that make his stomach twist. He doesn't hesitate to wind his arms tightly around her, and she grips his t-shirt between her fingers in a way that reminds him of when she first stepped out of the bank, desperate to be close to him.

He runs his hand soothingly up and down her back, but she doesn't calm, and it's starting to make him panic.

"Mac, it's okay, you're okay," he tries, but she just cries harder. She's crying so hard at this point that she's struggling for breath, taking huge, gasping gulps of air. "Mac, you're scaring me, you have got to calm down."

"I can't," her voice catches. "I can't."

"I'm here, you're safe, I won't let anything happen to you," his voice breaks and he drops a kiss into her hair. She begins to finally, _finally_, calm down, her sobs reducing to hiccups.

"He was going to kill me," she whispers.

"Was that what your dream was about?" And she hesitates for a moment before shaking her head.

"No," she answers. "It was about Islamabad." Will freezes. They've never talked about Islamabad. He's seen the scar, of course he has, and he knew what happened. The facts at least. He knew she was stabbed. He had called in more than few favors to be kept updated as to her condition in both the dirty, dusty army hospital in Pakistan and then the hospital in Landstuhl once they had her stabilized enough to transport her to Germany. But they hadn't ever addressed it. Mac had seemed shy about the scar the first time they made love after getting back together, and he had pressed a kiss to the scar and that had been that.

He knows they should have talked about it. Should have addressed the fact that Mac had run off to a warzone and almost _died._ He could have missed his chance completely. He would have never gotten over it, gotten over her, he knows that.

"Want to tell me about it?" He asks, and he's proud that his voice doesn't betray how nervous he is to hear about it.

"The dream or what actually happened?" Mac turns her face into his t-shirt so the question is muffled. Will swallows hard.

"Both, I guess," he answers. He feels Mac's sigh against his chest, but he's just relieved she's calmed down.

"I dreamt I was back on the streets in Islamabad, but it wasn't...I mean, the Captain was there. He was there and he had his gun, but he was pointing it at _you_. And I couldn't get there in time, I couldn't..." She shudders, and he tightens his hold on her.

"I'm okay," he whispers. "I'm here. I'm okay. You're okay." He'll keep repeating it until she understands, until she's calm.

"I've never...we never talked about Islamabad," she says softly. "I know you know the basics of what happened, but I never told you..."

"You don't have to if you don't want to," he's quick to interject, and she shakes her head slowly.

"I should, we should," she answers. "But I'm...not tonight?"

"Tomorrow," he agrees, and she curls up with her head on his chest.

"I guess we should talk to someone, I should talk to someone?" She asks, but her voice is uncertain and he brushes a kiss along her hairline. He knows that it's the middle of the night, and she's scared and emotional, but he hopes that she stands by this in the morning. It would do them both some good to talk to someone about what happened. Not just her. There are plenty of things that he's not dealing with, and at the very least he can recognize that.

"I can call Habib and see if he can squeeze us in," he offers and he feels her nod. "Try to sleep, okay? I'm here, I'm not going anywhere. You're safe, you're here with me." And over his dead body would anything else happen to her.

He closes his eyes, but he feels her move slightly, and he opens them just in time to see her slide off her engagement ring and place it on the nightstand next to the bed before settling back down against him and drifting back off to sleep.

* * *

Will wakes before Mackenzie in the morning. She's sleeping peacefully next to him, and he brushes a finger lightly over the bandage on her forehead before pressing the lightest of kisses to it.

He glances over and can see her engagement ring sitting on the nightstand, the diamond sparkling in the sunlight sneaking in around the blinds.

He has to buy her a new ring. If she wants a new ring, that is. Maybe she doesn't. Maybe she'll just want her simple wedding band and skip the engagement ring all together. That ring has been nothing but heartache for her.

She sighs in her sleep, and he thinks over their late night conversation. He's proud that she recognized that she should talk to someone right away, because seeing her that upset, that _hysterical_ had absolutely gutted him, and he knows for sure he couldn't handle that again. He's not even sure how he handled it the first time. It scared the shit out of him.

"You're thinking hard over there," Mac's voice breaks his thoughts and he glances down to see her blink her eyes open.

"How you feeling?"

"Better," she answers honestly.

"Good," he kisses her.

"Will," she starts and he braces himself. "I think we need to talk about Islamabad."

"Yeah," and he wants more than anything to have a cigarette or a drink in his hand for this conversation, because he's sure he's going to need it. He sits up, and Mac slides up next to him, and he picks up her hand and intertwines their fingers.

"I don't remember all of it," Mac starts. "The riot started unexpectedly, we were covering a story on something else, and I honestly can't remember what it was now. It doesn't matter, really. All of a sudden there was shouting and people were pushing, there were so many people, Will. Jim was right next to me until suddenly he wasn't, and I wasn't sure where he had gone. I looked around and couldn't find him. I couldn't see him." Her voice breaks and he lets go of her hand so that he can wrap his arms around her. She tucks her head into the crook of his neck.

"You don't…" he starts, and she shakes her head.

"No, I have to do this," she takes a deep breath. "I didn't see who it was, I just heard shouting in my ear and then there was a blinding pain. It took my breath away, and then Jim was there by my side, I don't know how he got there so fast, and he picked me up and carried me out of there. And all I kept thinking was about you and how I needed to see you again and how I needed to tell you that I was sorry, I was so sorry." She's crying now, and he tangles his fingers through her hair.

"It doesn't matter, I know, I know you're sorry," he whispers.

"I don't remember anything after than until I woke up in Germany. I wrote to you one last time. I told you about the stabbing and that I still loved you and that I would always love you."

"I didn't read it." He feels ashamed, guilt washing over him. Why did he hold such a stupid grudge for so long?

"No, I know," she reaches up and gives his hand a squeeze. "And it's okay. I mean, it's not, not really, but it doesn't matter. It really doesn't. It's water under the bridge." She pauses. "I had nightmares for a while after I came back. Not just about that particular day, but just about being over there. The worst ones always had you in them. You were there and you were hurt and you wouldn't let me touch you or help you."

"I knew about the stabbing," he says after a moment. "Charlie came in to tell me, and I called in a few favors to keep updated." This surprises her, and she pulls back and looks at him wide-eyed.

"You did?"

"Part of me thought I should go to you, make sure you were really okay, but I didn't know what to say, and the bigger part of me couldn't do it," he admits. Mac leans in and gives him a long, hard kiss.

"The past is the past," she tells him firmly. "It can stay there. We've got enough to deal with without adding on guilt for things we've already addressed." She leans back against him, and tilts her head back so it's resting against his shoulder. "I was more scared in the bank than I was in Pakistan. I didn't…the stabbing happened so fast. One minute I was fine, and the next I was being carried through the streets, but in that bank? I just kept thinking of you outside, and you were so _close_, but I kept thinking that I would never get to see you again and all I wanted was to see you again."

Will can understand. All he wanted was for her to walk out the door and be okay and in his arms.

"It wasn't a picnic outside, either," he mutters. "I had no idea if you were alive or hurt…when you texted me? I didn't know whether to strangle you or kiss the hell out of you."

"I needed you to know I was doing okay," Mac insists.

"I know, sweetheart," and he drops his head so that his forehead rests on the top of her head. She's so solid and warm and _here_, and he can deal with anything as long as she's okay. He stays there for another moment or so before he announces that he's going to call Habib to see if he can squeeze them in and as he climbs out of bed, Mac catches his hand.

"I don't want to wear my ring," she says in a small, apologetic voice. "I don't…want you to be upset about that, but I can't wear it Will, I _can't._ At least not right now." He leans forward to kiss her, cupping her head in his hands.

"You don't have to," he assures her. "I can buy you a new ring, or we can just put that one aside until you're ready or you don't have to wear any engagement ring at all." And she nods, not ready to make a decision yet, but she knows she can't put that particular ring back on. Not at the moment, maybe not ever.

He gives her one last kiss before going out into the hall to call Dr. Habib, and he glances back into their bedroom and finds her staring at her hands, and he thinks they have a long way to go, but they'll get there.


	10. This place was built for moving out

Mackenzie almost leaves several times in the few minutes between arriving at the office and when Dr. Habib's door finally opens. It's only the pressure of Will's hand on her thigh and the relieved smile he had when she told him that she would go earlier that morning that kept her in her seat.

Dr. Habib had offered to squeeze them in that morning, so Will had returned to Mac, who was stretched out in bed, dropping his hand so it rested on the small of her back and rubbed small circles into her skin.

"He can take us this morning," Will had said, half afraid that she would back out. But she had nodded, and he had been relieved.

Lonny had met them in the lobby of their building, and he had carefully hugged Mac.

"How you feeling?" He asked.

"Better," she told him honestly.

"For the record," Lonny added as they climbed into the car. "You're not allowed to go into any more places alone."

"That is a rule I can get behind," Will muttered as Lonny closed the door behind them. He didn't ever want to be as terrified as he was when she was in that bank. "No more banks for you."

Mac didn't say anything, just rested her head against Will's shoulder and nodded. They didn't speak for the rest of the car ride to Dr. Habib's, just sat silently, Mac's head on Will's shoulder and their hands tangled together in Mac's lap.

Lonny enters first, and tells them he'll be waiting for them in the waiting room and Will leads Mac into the inner office with a guiding hand on the small of her back.

"Hello Will, Mackenzie, how are you today?" Dr. Habib greets when they step inside.

"Fine," Mac answers with a polite smile, and Will can already see her walls going up. He sighs inwardly. This was going to be painful.

"We're better than we were a couple of days ago," Will adds, and as soon as Mac's settled in her chair, he picks up her hand and rubs his thumb across the back.

"I heard what happened, Will filled me in a little," Dr. Habib says. "How are you feeling?"

"Physically?" Mac asks. "I'm okay. Sore. But okay."

"I guess the second question is emotionally then," Dr. Habib says.

"I'm…" she starts to say that she's fine, but she knows that's not true. She's not. She's _not. _When she closes her eyes she can see The Captain with his smirk and his gun, and then it changes and she's in the streets of Islamabad again, only Jim doesn't get to her in time, or it's Will who is being stabbed or shot, and she can't close her eyes. She can't. After her nightmare, she only slept in bits and pieces, afraid to close her eyes for more than ten minutes at a stretch. She finally drifted off to a relatively peaceful sleep towards the early hours of the morning, and she's exhausted and sore and cranky.

She doesn't want to be sitting here with this _kid_ who has no idea what it's like to be standing in the path of a bullet or a knife.

"Mackenzie?" Dr. Habib asks gently.

"I keep seeing him when I close my eyes," she finally say. "The guy, the ringleader. I called him the Captain, and I can see him when I close my eyes."

"Were you afraid of him?" Habib asks. "In the bank? Were you afraid of what he'd do to you?"

"He held a gun up to her head," Will exclaims, and she can see his free hand, the one not currently warm in hers, clench into a fist. "Of course she was fucking afraid of him!"

"Before that, before he held the gun to your head," Dr. Habib corrects.

"He had a temper," Mac says softly. "I could tell he had a temper. And I was afraid of…I was afraid that exactly what happened would happen."

"Were you afraid like that when you were embedded?"

"No," she whispers. "That was…I didn't think it was possible that something might happen to me until I was hurt over in Pakistan. And even after…no, I was more afraid in the bank than I was while I was embedded. I kept thinking of Will outside and I couldn't stand the thought…I didn't want…" She shakes her head. "No."

* * *

Mac's quiet when they leave Habib's office. She doesn't say much when she climbs into the car or during the ride home, and she's silent in the elevator up to their apartment. She drops her purse on the front table by the door and doesn't say a word as she goes back to their bedroom.

Will has two choices. He can give her space or he can follow her, and he's not sure which one is the right one, but the truth is that he can't stand to be away from her right now. Not yet. Not when he has the image of her with a gun to her head filling his thoughts and making it hard for him to breathe.

He follows her down the hall and finds her just sitting on the edge of their bed.

"You okay?" He asks, but that's a stupid question. "Do you need anything?" That's a better question. She reaches out her hand in response and he takes it, sitting down next to her and letting her rest her head on his shoulder.

"I hate them, they're dead and I hate them," she says softly. "And I can't get them out of my head, and I want them out of my head."

"You should take one of those pills tonight to help you sleep," he answers, brushing a kiss to her hairline and wrapping an arm around her shoulder. "You need to sleep."

"Yeah," she sighs. "Yeah."

"The good news is that we have the whole day with nothing to do," Will says brightly. He's not used to be the upbeat one in the relationship, and he doesn't like it. He's rewarded with a small smile from his wife.

It's not much, but he'll take it.

They're curled up on the couch an hour later, Mac's favorite movie, _The Philadelphia Story,_ playing when the lobby buzzes.

"Are you expecting someone?" Will asks, and Mac shakes her head. He extracts himself from around her and crosses over to the front door. Mac hits play again and glances up when Will walks back in. "It's Jim. He's on his way up."

"What's Jim doing here?" She asks and Will shrugs. Jim comes in a minute later, his hands shoved in his pockets, and Mac can tell that something is wrong.

"What's going on? Is everything okay at the office?" Mac asks.

"Oh it's fine, don't worry about anything. We've got it under control," Jim assures. "I just...I wanted...I needed to make sure you were okay." And Mac's throat constricts, and she climbs carefully to her feet and wraps her arms around Jim.

They've been through so much together, her and Jim. She owes him so much. If this experience was bringing up bad memories for her, it also had to be bringing up things for Jim too.

"I'm okay," she tells him. "I promise."

"Yeah, okay, yeah," Jim says, jerking his head. "You should sit though. You were just _shot_. You need to sit. I should go. I just wanted...I should go."

"No," Mac says, her grip firm on his arms. "We're just watching a movie. Come on, we were just arguing about what to order, you can be our tie breaker." Will claps a hand on Jim's back and Jim moves towards the couch with his arm still around Mac.

"I'll go order food," Will announces as Mac gets herself comfortable on the couch. When it's just herself and Jim, she reaches out and squeezes his hand.

"Want to talk about it?" She asks. Jim shakes his head, and she doesn't push. "I _am_ okay. We're not in Pakistan. We're in New York and it was a case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time, and it's over and I'm okay."

She just needs to start believing that herself.


	11. Leave behind buildings

It shouldn't have surprised him, really. He had been pushing off his own breakdown to deal with Mac's, and the moments when it was quiet and he had time to think about it, he pushed it out of his mind and poured himself a drink of Scotch.

The weekend went by too quickly, much too quickly for Will's liking. He wanted to stay holed up in their apartment, but he knew that Mac was antsy to get back to work, get back to normal, and he was not going to deny her anything at the moment.

Habib had prescribed her something to help her sleep, and it had helped with the nightmares, for which Will was thankful. He couldn't handle it. Not when she woke up, terrified and confused, her eyes darting around their dark bedroom and her pulse racing.

"I'm here, I'm here, you're okay," he would repeat until she calmed down, running a soothing hand up and down her back.

But the sleeping pills had helped. Immensely. She could sleep, he could sleep, and by Monday she was ready to go back out into the real world.

The alarm went off Monday and Mac groaned, rolling over into her pillow.

"You were the one who wanted to go back to work," Will reminded as he patted her blanketed back as he rolled out of bed to start the coffee.

"I forgot about the waking up part," Mac mumbled. "It really sucks." Will chuckles, leaning down to drop a kiss on her hair, before going to get ready.

When they climb into the car, Lonny turns around and wags a finger at both of them.

"No stops!" He scolds. "We're going straight to the office."

"Won't hear any complaints from back here," Will mutters. Mac doesn't say anything, just twines her fingers through Will's and drops her head to his shoulder.

She had already told Jim that she didn't want her return to the office to be a big deal, and while people came over to give her a hug and welcome her back, it was pretty low key. Will follows her into her office and settles down into the chair across from her desk and she raises an eyebrow in his direction.

"Are you going to sit there all day?" She asks amused.

"Maybe," he shrugs.

"I'm okay, Will, I'm not going to leave this office. Trust me, I have plenty to do," she reassures him, and she crosses from behind the desk and leans down to place a soft kiss on his lips.

"I know," he replies, and he does, he knows that she's okay and that she'll just be in the office next to his, but since she walked out of that bank she's not been more than three feet away from him at any given moment, and he's not quite ready to let her out of his sight. She gives him one more kiss and then points a finger to the door.

"Go, go to work, Will," she instructs, and he begrudgingly follows her request, turning to look at her as she settled in at her desk, and wondering how the hell he would have kept going if something would have happened to her.

The show goes off without a hitch, and Will thinks all in all it's been a pretty good day. They get back to the apartment and Mac is exhausted and her arm _aches_, so she gives Will a goodnight kiss, and climbs into bed. He promises her he'll be right behind, but pours himself a drink and settles in his chair.

He doesn't realize he's fallen asleep out there until he hears a scream rip through the apartment, and his heart is racing as he jumps to his feet, rushing back to their bedroom where Mac is thrashing around in the covers.

"No, no, no, no," she repeats, and he realizes, belatedly, that she had been too exhausted to remember to take a sleeping pill. He gently shakes her awake, and pushes a piece of sweaty hair from her forehead.

"You're okay," he tries, and every other time that has been enough to wake her up, to make her realize where she is and that's she safe. This time is different though, and it's enough to send Will into an absolute state of panic. "Mac? Sweetheart? Wake up. Mac, you need to wake up." His voice holds an edge of terror as she shifts, but her eyes remain firmly shut. "Mackenzie!" He's practically yelling now, gripping her arm tightly, too tightly probably, but she won't wake up and he doesn't know what to do. When he's about to pull his phone and call Habib, or _someone_, he doesn't care who at this point, her eyes fly open and she bolts awake, her body trembling.

"Oh God," she says, her hand flying to her mouth. "That was the worst one yet."

"You're okay," it's a stupid thing to say, but he's not sure what else to say, so he just keeps repeating it. "You're okay. What can I do to help Mac?" His voice sounds so broken, and she tugs on his hand.

"Just hold me?" And he strips down to just a boxer and a t-shirt, crawling under the covers and pulling her body to his. He skims a hand down her arm and presses a kiss to her bare shoulder.

"Go to sleep, sweetheart," he whispers. "I'm right here."

Two hours later, it's Will who wakes with a nightmare, a scream caught in his throat. Mac blinks sleepily at him, her voice drowsy with sleep when she notes,

"We're quite the pair, aren't we?" He doesn't answer, rubbing a hand over his face. "Want to tell me what it was about?" He shakes his head at first, because he can't dislodge the image of Mackenzie bleeding to death on the bank floor, her eyes staring blankly. "It might help if you tell me about it," she tries again.

"You were in the bank," he swallows hard. "You, uh, you didn't make it out." And his voice breaks on the last word and she's crawling into his lap, her arms snaking around his neck as he buries his head in her hair, breathing in the smell of her. He finally begins to cry, hot tears rolling down his cheeks and dripping into her hair, and she doesn't say a word, just holds him tight.

She doesn't say anything, because she's not sure what she's supposed to say. She doesn't say she's okay, because he knows that rationally, and it's not completely true anyway. She's okay physically, but she's a long way from being okay mentally, and both of them know that. She doesn't say that it's all right, because it's really _not_ fucking all right.

"I was so fucking scared," his voice trembles. "You have no idea. You have _no_ idea. If you hadn't made it out…if you didn't…I wouldn't have…I wouldn't have made it, Mac. I wouldn't have."

"Don't say that," she whispers.

"I know what it's like to live without you, and it's fucking _awful_. But at least then I knew if I got my head out of my ass I could call you up, I could talk to you. You were God knows where, but you were walking and talking and alive. I can't go back to that, sweetheart, I can't live without you again. When you were in that bank all I kept thinking was, that's my whole life in there. That's _everything_. You're the only thing that matters. The _only_ thing."

"Will," he realizes that she's crying now too, her small frame shaking with the sobs and he presses kisses into her hair to try to get her to stop. She's not sure what to say to that. She settles on, "I love you," and he tilts her chin up and presses a fierce kiss to her lips.

"I love you, so much," he tells her.

"I don't think I'm going to be able to sleep tonight," Mac admits, but she still climbs out of Will's lap, reaching for his hand as she slides back under the covers. He slides down, their noses inches apart, and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. But soon, Will's arm warm and safe around her, and his breathing even in her ear, she's drifting off to sleep, and luckily, both of them sleep soundly through the rest of the night.


End file.
